by Max Jager
"It would seem that at this point, that it would be Drek's battle-"
"I object!" Sindra cried. "Manipulative commentary."
"I am saying it would seem that way Your Honor. I'm not trying to suggest a theory that blatantly contradicts the facts," Erand argued.
The Emperor pondered for a moment and decided to give Erand the benefit of the doubt.
"Now," Erand picked up, "continuing with my line of reasoning, it would seem that with Jaren nearly helpless on the ground, the battle would belong to Drek."
"May I remind you Drel, regardless of whether this is self-defense or not, you have still pleaded guilty on the account of Drek's murder. I don't see how your questioning of the circumstances of the brawl has any merit given the end result we know of," the prosecutor drawled.
"If I may finish, given the defendant's circumstances at the time, his only choices would have been to defend himself or die in the process."
"But may I remind you that Black's death was consistent with the defendant dealing a coupe-de-grace blow? In order for the circumstances to have shifted so greatly, the defendant would have had to put Black in a position where he would have been helpless. I believe I remember Simon testifying earlier to the degree that the defendant usually exhibited a calm demeanor. Now if he were to be consis-"
"Your reasoning here is pathetic, Sindra," Erand spat. "You are speaking on the basis that the defendant is an emotionally perfect human. That even under the tightest grips of panic, he would be able to remain calm and do the 'rational' thing: keeping the victim subdued as opposed to killing him. Now, let me ask you, if someone came at you with the ferocious intent to kill, would you simply 'subdue' them? Or would you do what is best in your power to keep yourself unharmed?"
"That's enough Erand," the Emperor cut in, "The court sees your point. Now, the problem I have here is that we merely have the defendant's testimony that at one point it seemed that Drek would cut his chain, but on the other hand we have hard evidence as to how Mr. Black was killed. Erand, I offer you one path to victory. Present evidence right now that the defendant was telling the truth in his testimony, or your claim that the defendant killed out of self defense will not hold water in this court."
Jaren suddenly tensed up at the Emperor's request, but Erand smirked.
"The defense is ready to do just that, Your Honor."
"Ah, always prepared for anything eh, Erand?" Arden inquired rhetorically, "Alright, let's see your evidence."
Erand quickly ruffled through his files and drew out a small diskette. He opened a panel on his desk, placed it inside a slot and closed the panel.
"Behold," he said, "a video from a security camera depicting the brawl between the defendant and the victim."
The Emperor gasped, stuttering to find the right words to say, "W-Why didn't you present this earlier? This could've been crucial evidence that would have proven your point a lot sooner!"
"My apologies, Your Majesty, but I saw it more strategic to build up my case through testimony and other means before presenting hard evidence to solidify my claim," Erand said smugly.
The plasma screen in the center of the court changed to say "Retrieving media" then began playing the video soon afterward. The quality of the film was surprisingly high and showed the dark alley to the side of the factory in decent detail. After a few seconds, a figure identical to Jaren was shown shuffling quickly on foot and the camera panned to follow it. The video proceeded to show Drek rushing from behind and accurately depicted the events of the fight that Jaren remembered. At the point Drek was about to execute the blow to Jaren's head, the Jaren in the video instead rolled out of the way, and Drek's foot connected with the ground. With a well-executed trip, Jaren's figure knocked Drek to the ground and aimed to keep him down by stepping on his chest. His blow, however, connected with Drek's forehead as Drek was trying to get up at which point the clip ended in static.
Erand spoke soon after the culmination of the video, "The defense has had this evidence reviewed by a third party, who certified it to be genuine."
"Very well then," the Emperor replied, "I see no room for misinterpretation of the facts. It appears as though the defendant did indeed attempt to subdue the victim but instead accidentally dealt a fatal blow. Your claim that the defendant acted out of self-defense is taken as valid in this court. We will continue with the rest of this trial tomorrow, where the murder of Overseer Kraen Vendhal will be disputed. The defendant will be fully acquitted of the fifth level of guilt should that charge be proven false. Court is hereby dismissed."
The Emperor stood and left through the door he had entered from, and the crowd followed suit. Erand breathed a heavy sigh of relief and followed Jaren back towards his cell.
After a few moments of hesitation in front of the cell, he spoke again, "Hate to break it to you Jaren, but since you are already as good as convicted at the fourth you will face your first encounter in the arena today and will continue to do so every day of the trial."
Jaren opened his palms, stared at them and then clenched his fists, all the while saying nothing.
"I can trust you'll do well, my boy. For now there is no other way."
And with that, Erand left with the same quick stride by which he had came.
Jaren attempted to clear his mind, but to no avail. He thought only of strengthening his mental resolve for the days ahead.
7:48 p.m.
The dark stone floor began to gather light, and Jaren slowly looked up from his semi-trance. Two white robed figures entered the chamber and approached his cell.
"Time for the arena, boy. Bet you're excited about your debut match! Hehehehe."
Jaren calmly ignored the man's diabolic laughter and allowed himself to be handcuffed and escorted. His heart rate began to pick up beyond its normal pace as they approached the gladiator's entrance to the arena. The men lifted Jaren's restraints and gestured over to a rack with archaic leather armor, a sword and a shield.
"Up to you to put it on before the match, boy. Hehehehee."
The men left with that, locking the entrance door behind them. Jaren suddenly heard a familiar voice coming from within the room, "Hey."
"J-Jon?" Jaren replied hesitantly.
"Yep," the voice replied. "Listen, I'm going to put this bluntly. Today is a tag team match and one of us is slated to die."
All the calm Jaren had gathered disappeared in an instant, "S-Slated to d-die?"
"Hey man, don't lose your cool like that. Did I say that one of us is going to die?"
"No, I guess not," Jaren said sheepishly.
"Listen then. This might actually be our chance to skip this joint."
"How is that even remotely possible with all the authorities watching us?"
"It isn't that easy, but the good news is that we are currently right on top of the ship's main hangar."
"And how are we supposed to get there?"
"You'll find out, just follow my lead."
Light began flooding the room and seared Jaren's eyes, which had grown too accustomed to darkness. Jon's slender figure revealed itself in the bright cascade. It was evident he had starved himself, and his prisoner's rags drooped heavily over the rest of his body. Like Jaren, he had neglected to don the provided equipment.
A sneering voice filled the stadium, which provided seating for thousands around the hundred by two-hundred foot sparring field. "Ah! Ladies and gentlemen, we have a first! Both gladiators have neglected to use any equipment. Have they something up their sleeve? We shall find out shortly!"
Jaren looked down at the ground, currently featuring a rough base of sand and dirt.
"Now," the announcer continued, "let's give a hearty arena welcome to Mister D-four-seven-nine!"
The large audience booed loudly as the door opposite to Jaren and Jon opened, revealing an orc fully clad in studded leather armor and equipped with a large two-handed axe. Once again, Jaren felt the indomitable feeling of disgust.
"Let's hope our gladiator
s know what they're doing; that axe looks like it's ready to bite a couple of heads off!"
The orc charged forward but slipped and fell due to being restricted by chains. Its axe flew forward twenty feet as a result.
"Jaren, you engage the orc; I have things I need to attend to in order to ensure our escape," Jon whispered.
Jaren nodded and stared head on at the orc.
"Now that everyone's ready, this match begins in three... two... wait a second, we have a last minute call from the umpire!"
Another voice of a gruffer nature filled the arena, "As matches of fourth level are usually one-on-one against an orc, we will be giving this orc the fatal marauder injection, which is only fair given that two fourth level crimes make a fifth. Therefore, our two gladiators will be facing a marauder."
From a side wall in the arena, a robotic arm holding a large syringe extended toward the orc and stabbed it in the back, causing it to roar violently. Its form changed almost instantly: the two tusk-like canines on its lower jaw doubled in size, its whole head and body swelled to over a hundred and fifty percent of its original height and girth, and its muscles gained several additional pounds of mass.
The mocking voice of the announcer refilled the speakers, "As this injection only lasts for two minutes before the orc perishes, we will give our gladiators the benefit of immunity for the day if they survive the whole time."
Jon spat on the ground in disgust but Jaren quickly grew sick to his stomach, which he couldn't help clutching with his left hand.
"Keep it together Jaren! We can do this!"
Jon's inspiring words motivated Jaren slightly, and he braced himself as the marauder broke its chains with its own strength.
"One minute and thirty seconds left; it's anyone's game!"
Too mindless to pick up the axe it had dropped, the menacing creature flung itself at Jaren and Jon, flailing the chains attached to its wrist cuffs. Unable to contain his panic, Jaren let the primal instinct take over his body, and not a moment too soon. A whipping chain immediately came from his eleven o' clock and he blocked it painfully by letting it collide with and wrap around his left arm. The action unsteadied the marauder, allowing Jaren to gain more control over it by using his body as an anchor and pulling on the remainder of the chain with all his might. While at first it seemed a winning battle, Jaren was immediately caught off guard by the other chain, coming from his right. It collided with his right rib, causing him enough agony to relinquish his control over the marauder's left side. It began the offensive again with a mighty and barbaric roar.
"We sure have a fight here today, ladies and gentlemen!" the announcer cackled.
The beast charged forward, this time attacking with its two fists clasped together in a club-like formation. Jaren dodged the blow by flinging himself backward ten feet and maintaining his balance by skidding a few feet more. The marauder's ignorance of its own chains during the attack backfired with one of the chains colliding with its forehead. It shook its head, dazed, allowing Jaren to quickly jump onto the creature and assume a vice grip around its neck with his arms. The orc attempted violently to shake him off but to no avail-Jaren's grip and advantageous position were too much for even it to handle. Furthermore, its large bulging arms and shoulders prevented it from reaching its own neck in an attempt to pry Jaren's arm off. As each second passed, Jaren could feel the beast's resistances waning as its time drew closer. As far as he could tell, it would be over in a matter of seconds. He suddenly awoke from his primal stupor with an alarmed squeal coming from the announcer.
"It appears that the other gladiator has slit his own arm with the marauder's axe! What in the world is he thinking?"
"Jaren, stand back!"
Jon pulled out of the bloody gash in his arm what appeared to be a small disk. He ran forward, placed the object near the orcs' entrance door and quickly sprinted back towards Jaren. Jaren relinquished his grip around the now felled marauder's neck as a blinding flash of light, followed by a shockwave unsteadied him. Beyond the dusty haze, the once fortified steel door was now a pile of rubble. The umpire's voice immediately filled the stadium, "Guards, stop these men now!"
Jon, clutching his very bloody arm, and Jaren, nursing a gash on his left arm and right hip, sprinted toward the newly opened entrance. Once inside the orc's chamber, they saw a long hallway ahead leading into darkness. Jon halted and instead found a hatch for a thermal vent on the ground. Jaren tore it off the ground with his remaining strength, and they slipped inside. They crawled forward several feet and found another vent, apparently leading into the main hangar below. Several guards had already gathered there, and footsteps were rapidly approaching the vent they had entered.
"Go down there and pretend to surrender," Jon said with a tense voice. "I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. It's about a twenty foot drop so be careful."
Jaren slid the vent open and dropped to the ground below, reducing the impact of his fall by tumbling. A guard in heavily adorned mithril armor approached him, "Thought you could escape, eh?" he mocked menacingly.
"Yup, but I guess you got me," Jaren replied, failing to hide the sarcasm.
"Hands up boy!" the guard ordered, brandishing a long shock rod.
Jaren slowly raised his hands.
"Hands up to you, mister knight in shining armor!"
Jaren blinked and suddenly saw the bounty hunter pointing his index finger like a gun at the guard's head.
"Or what, you're gonna fire a fingernail at me? Oooh, I'm soo scared," the guard mocked. "Take him out boys."
Five other guards in steel armor surrounded the bounty hunter, prepared to engage.
"Here, Jaren, take these." The bounty hunter tossed two plastic buds coated in metallic paint into each of Jaren's hands. Jaren understood immediately that they should be placed in his ears. In an instant, a sonic boom washed over and although Jaren heard a loud reverberation in his ears, he wasn't knocked out cold. With all the guards passed out, he placed the buds in his pocket.
The bounty hunter beckoned Jaren over to some invisible field of force barely noticeable to the naked eye. Jaren suddenly remembered he was missing something, or rather someone.
"Wait! My friend's still in th-"
"It's alright, he's taken care of; hop in!"
The field of force peeled away to reveal the entrance to a spacecraft. Jaren shrugged and dashed toward the entrance.
"You're... not... getting... away... that... easily... SIKEL!"
Jaren froze for a moment allowing the head guard, who had woken from his cold slumber to fire an electric blast from his shockrod, which hit Jaren squarely in the cheekbone and caused his body to paralyze.
"Dammit!" the bounty hunter cursed. With a well placed energy ray from his finger, he silenced the guard and then carried Jaren into the craft.
"Move it Corsair!" he bellowed.
"Aye sir," said a meek feminine voice.
The hatch door closed, and the cruiser sped off into open space at nearly light speed.
Book 1: Epilogue
Epilogue
12:36 a.m.
Visions. Visions of darkness and despair. Of rage and fury. Jaren tossed and turned in a half-slumber, his mind wracked with visions of hatred and vengeance. But toward whom? Toward whoever was responsible for the imprisonment of the orcs of course! The Emperor will pay for his sins and for the revival of slavery, he thought maliciously.
Jaren awoke, sweaty and dazed. He had a numb pain on his cheekbone, which was swathed with what he recognized as nitrasil. He closed his eyes and remembered the pulsating electric shock which caused him to immobilize and pass out.
"Where... am I?" he addressed the surrounding darkness. A flash of red light answered him.
"The Arden Sovereignty: coordinates 12423.89762, 72338.23213, 90131.53211; approximately four aurons from the Celtanean Solar System. Does that answer your question?"
"Huunh?" Jaren slurred with a yawn.
"I do not know what to make of your respon
se. Would you care to rephrase?"
"Wait a minute, who are you?"
"I apologize for not clarifying earlier. My name is Corsair; I am the computer mainframe of this cruiser."
"C-Cruiser?"
"You are currently on board a Slizer SC twelve thousand, optimized for stealth and reconnaissance purposes."
"You have a dull memory, Jaren," a second voice butted in. The voice didn't sound like Jon's and wasn't gruff like the bounty hunter's.
"Then again, your brain would be at the very least completely fried if you weren't covered by one big insulator."
